Sumner and Brooks Reconcile Their Political Differences
by thegluebox
Summary: After experiencing a tenuous relationship strained by slavery, states' rights, and partisanship, Sumner and Brooks reach a compromise as they experience a sexual awakening.


_After an awkward and somewhat violent occurrence in the Senate, Charles Sumner and Preston Brooks experience a sexual awakening._

Charles lay in his bed, his body aching all over. He had nearly died, but it felt good, somehow, as the pain put a fire in his loins that only an entire brothel could match.

Preston crouched near the window of Charles's bedroom, hiding behind the bushes, his fingers lightly touching the windowsill as he watched the undoing of his temper with his steely brown eyes. Although ethically Charles had always disgusted him, Preston had always found Mr. Sumner somewhat appealing in his powerful, father-like demeanor. But now, that power was no more. Preston wished he could give it back to his opponent, somehow.

Charles's wife had left him for a couple hours to make her weekend trip to the market, and the house was entirely empty. Preston knew that there weren't any slaves to hold him back, the fool that the old man was, so he let himself in through Charles's bedroom window.

"Mr. Sumner," Preston whispered softly, cowering next to the window, his back pressed against the wall.

Charles jumped up in fright, wondering why a man had crawled in through his chamber window. He clutched his sheets and pressed his feet against the foot of his bed.

Preston walked up slowly and gazed into the old man's deep chestnut eyes, quavering in fear, "I want to give you your power back, Mr. Sumner." He looked down at the floor and handed him the gold-encrusted cane that he had beaten the old man with a few days before. It had been tied back together with a piece of string

"Here you are, Mr. Sumner," he said quietly. Preston pulled down his trousers and exposed his backside. It was muscular and somewhat tan, evidence that he swum quite a bit when he was a young child in the Carolinas.

Charles took the cane gently. "You were a very naughty boy, Preston," Charles said, "you mustn't let your anger get the best of you."  
"Yes, Mr. Sumner," Preston whispered quietly.

"Now come over here, boy." Charles said gently, his strong voice resounded through the chamber. Preston came over quietly and turned around, so his bottom was in clear view. Charles administered the blows gently, somewhat weak, and Preston looked up into Charles's eyes.

"Sir," Preston said, with a mischievous smile on his face "have I really been that naughty? It does not feel so."

"Ah, we must fix then, shan't we?" Charles's lip turned up in a half-smile as his eyes met the young boy's. He began to beat heavier, until the string worked no more. He began beating him with the gold head until it lost his form and Preston's buttocks was nice and red.

"You have been a good lad and taken your punishment well. Let me see your yard, my good man," Charles said gently. Preston turned around. It was but three inches, quite erect. Charles looked at the man in disappointment, and Preston looked at the floor in shame.

"I am disappointed," said Charles, "but that does not mean I will not take it." He squeezed the bulging red thing, and turned around so his own backside was facing up.

"I want you to enter me," Mr. Sumner said with that powerful voice that so irritated Preston in Congress. Preston obliged.

Charles bit the pillow lightly, squeezing the sides of the bed. He gasped with delight, as Preston's John Thomas expelled fluid, and his own expelled some as well. Preston pulled his own out, and began kissing the fluid coming out of Charles's yard, engulfing the powerful man's 7-incher in his relatively expansive mouth. More and more buttermilk expelled from the man's pipe, and Preston smiled gently. He pulled up the ailing man's trousers and his own, and opened the window prepared, to exit.

"Don't go," Charles said softly. Preston walked over and caressed Charles's face gently. Charles ran his fingers through Preston's wavy brown hair and smiled gently, pressing his lips against his.

"This time, next week," Preston said gently, and Charles nodded softly. Preston walked over to the window again, another hickory cane in hand, and pushed his magnificent, sweltering derriere over the window sill and fell into the bushes, and Charles smiled gently, anticipating the pleasure to come.


End file.
